Let Me Occupy Your Mind
by LovelyFandomLover
Summary: From one side she see's black, his darkness and the other side he sees red, her love. They don't understand each other's story. She thinks it's wrong when it's right. He thinks it's right when it's wrong. Two-shot, multiple point of view.
1. Part I

**Part I : Sacrilege**

_"Fallen for a guy, fell down from the sky. Halo round his head. Feathers in a bed. In our bed, in our bed... ask if I will try to leave this all behind. Halo round his head. Feathers in a bed. In our bed, in our bed"_

* * *

><p>She loves the pain that she causes him. It was exhilarating, making her smile. Despite everything she did, he would come back. He always did. She never doubt it, not a second. Because the reason people hurt the ones they love is because they expect them to forgive them. Take her mother as an example.<p>

Vivien kept on forgiving Ben for all that crap he put her through. The lack of support after the miscarriage, the affair with his 22-year-old student that resulted a pregnancy that he lied about, burying his dead mistress in the backyard, the accusations of her having an affair, and so much more bullshit.

Violet would also make a perfect example. About her and Tate. All the suffering that he has caused her and she has forgiven him, although she was never going to let him find out about that. He deserved to suffer. Because she cares about him, she's in love with that psychopath. And that's something worth punishing him over.

She never stopped loving, she couldn't and probably wouldn't. There's something wrong with her for loving him, despite everything. She thinks about what was that made her fall in love with him. That got her hooked to him, like a drug addict in need for their heroine.

He was different, Tate was like her, Violet thought when she met him. He understood her like no one else. He hated high school, just like her. He liked watching the leaves fall from trees, just like her. He was strange, didn't fit in, just like her. He would cut himself, just like her. She thought that he liked the darkness, like her. Not only that, she thought he was cute, handsome even, with his curly blonde hair, grunge clothing, twisted personality, smoky voice and charming smile. He was the epitome of a boyfriend she always wanted.

Every time she would see him, her stomach would tightened as if she was going down a roller coaster. That wasn't the only place that got affected, her brain, her heart, her woman parts. They would all react when they saw or even thought about him. Those feelings, infatuation, lust, were new for her.

It was embarrassing to a point that she would check all the time her room, if he appeared out of nowhere, like would do sometimes (she didn't know how he did it). But then those feelings became less embarrassing when it became clear that he felt the same way about her.

The giddiness that went through when she overheard (more like eavesdropped) when he was talking to her dad, who was his psychiatrist at the time, about this girl he met, that he thought about her when he was touching himself, and wondered how she would feel, that she was amazing. He doesn't want to ruin his chances with her, because she's different.

Her heart started racing, making her chest hurt. She didn't know what to do. The thought of being in love, made her want to scream and pull her hair out. Out of how excited and terrified she felt.

But that was a long time ago. She still felt those emotions, but there's also pain, confusion, and anger. Lots of anger, that made her pull her hair from the roots, drag her nails over her face, making her bleed. It hurt like a bitch, but it was a torment that she had control over at least. The rest of it is controlled by that fucking psycho that she use to call her boyfriend.

It was always the same. She hated him. She loved him. She hated him. She loved him. It was a fucking cycle. Everything in this god damn house was a never-ending cycle. She hated that too. This was going to last forever. She wasn't able to leave it. She can't move from the depression, from the darkness of the house, from him. From these emotions that she felt for him; the good and bad.

There's nobody else she can compare him to. He was her first everything. Crush, kiss, boyfriend, best friend, confidant, sexual partner, heartbreak. At times she was thankful for some but the others made her want to slit her throat.

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><p>There were times, when it all became too much, Violet would sit in the tub, the one where she died. Where Tate tried to save her but ultimately failed. She died crying but loved, that's what he told her. It was a nice way of dying, she thought at times, with the one you loved, trying to make everything better.<p>

She doesn't remember much what happened after she died, but she hasn't really tried to make the effort to remember. She feared it, though Violet didn't know what exactly she feared. She's dead, it happened. No point of crying over spilt milk, would say Moira to her, when she would find her crying about her death or other aspects of her life. All she wanted was to feel alive. How ironic.

If she would have know that she would have gotten herself in this situation when she committed suicide because she was sick of being alive. That stupidity bit her from behind... harshly. But now sitting in this stupid tub, she realized that maybe she's afraid to remember because he was there, trying to save her, to make sure she didn't end up in the house, even if it gave him a chance for them to be together forever. He was being selfless, caring. Not the monster she portrays him as.

She felt a hysterical sob escape her, the irony, about that. Of everything between the two of them. When the first time they met, his first words to her was that she was doing it wrong. That if she wanted to kill herself, she should do it vertically so they won't be able to stitch it up. He was giving her tips how to kill herself. Next thing you know, he is dragging her, begging her not to die. Trying to do anything in his power to save her life. Funny how things change.

Violet, squeezed her eyes, trying to stop from tears of falling, breathing heavily. This isn't working, she screamed inside her head, I need something else. Quickly, she got out of the tub and ran to her room.

She needed a release, desperately, this house was suffocating her and none of her usual methods were helping. Violet had finished all her cigarettes, leaving her anxious. The tub had just made her feel suffocated and melancholic. What was she supposed to do without her release?

The others inhabitants in this house would use sex or killing other ghosts as an escape but Violet didn't have that alternative (she did but Violet would pretend that she didn't for various reasons), so she settled to the one she knew the best. Making perfect lines in her skin with a blade, her specialty. She grabbed her razor blade and pressed it against her skin, not drawing blood.

Violet hasn't cut herself since Tate walked into the bathroom and caught her doing that. It was a few days after her 'failed attempt' suicide, when she thought she still alive. He made her promise to stop, because it was disgusting. Violet was surprised at his anger but happy that he worried. It showed that he loved her. That happened about six years ago. But now she didn't give a fuck about that promise she made so long ago to him. She didn't know why she kept it when he broke many of his promises.

Technically Violet had not cut herself in the wrists but she has drawn blood from herself. At times when she was bored or saw Tate, she would go to her bathtub and cut her throat, dying in her blood. It was sort of like her power nap, it gave her more energy when she would wake up.

She didn't always did in the bathtub, sometimes when she was too distraught to think straight, she would just do it her room, grab the sharpest object and shove it to her throat. Fall to the ground and then wake up, going to the bathroom the repeat the ritual, this time properly.

Violet started cutting herself, in her room, his room, their room. She had just finished slicing three perfect lines in her left wrist when she was going to start the same ritual in her right wrist, when she felt someone take the razor.

Her first thought was, that it was Chad, who is repulsed by her fascination of drawing blood from herself or others, to scold her for staining the carpet, even if it was a fashion crime. Violet turned around to see that it was Tate, who looked angry. She opened her mouth to yell at him to leave her alone but nothing came out. She was paralyzed.

"Don't do that. Don't hurt yourself," his voice comes out strained, as if he was controlling himself from yelling. He gave her a sad and disappointed look before he disappeared, not allowing her to react. Violet seem to finally function again.

"Wait," she whispered to nothing, at the spot where Tate was. He had left, as fast as he had appear.

Leaving her completely confuse, what had just happened? How can he do that? Affect her like that? Leave her all confused and upset? Tears were falling. She was crying, about what? Him, how despite everything, even if she is already dead, he doesn't want her to get hurt.

A part of her, the girl who was in loved with him, that loved getting flowers and being hugged from him, was happy that he wanted to protect her. Her naïve self that didn't know about his monstrosity. Her other part, the one that knew the truth, is outraged. That he was telling her get to do. And disappearing, not letting her do anything

This wasn't supposed to be her life. She is supposed to be an adult, who graduated from college with a job, maybe as a writer or a painter, living alone in a crappy apartment , independent person.

Instead she's still a depressed and suicidal seventeen year old ghost, that is stuck in a house with other fucked up ghosts, that included her parents, his father's mistress, and her psychopath ex boyfriend that she still was in love with and many more deranged ghosts. Her life was a terrible joke. She couldn't escape them, especially him. He was always going to be there.

That made Violet want to teach him a lesson in the worst kind of way. To make him suffer. Be in pain all the time, that way she will feel less guilty when she finally decides to be with him after all that he has done.

Although she didn't exactly knew how to make him suffer, besides ignoring him. She would need to get creative, like him. It would only be fair. That's how it was between them. One of them had to pay for the other crimes. This time it will be him.

* * *

><p>Violet was in one of the many guest rooms this house had, with Chad. Sometimes, she would spend all day with him. Violet liked Chad, she really did. He was fun, sarcastic, a little bitter but no one can blame him, always had something to say, and loved to drink. They got along despite their age different (at times it felt like she was the older one of the two). Chad made her laugh, he made her days interesting. There was this charisma about him that she loved. He was the perfect best friend that happens to be gay.<p>

Who she would sometimes use to anger Tate. Violet knew that it pissed him off that she rather spend time with that gay drama queen (his words; Tate was a bit of a homophobic she had come to discover) than him or anyone else on this house. It made him rabid, she could hear him kick and scream, when she was with Chad.

At times she would feel guilty about using Chad for her childish game but then she remembered Tate in agony because of her and she would drown the guilt with alcohol and Chad, smiling and forgetting.

Violet did end up telling Chad, and was scared on how he would react. Instead of getting angry, he started laughing, doubling over, saying that she could use him as Nora is crying over her baby (which is all the time), as long that demented psycho suffers. That lifted a small weight from her and made things a bit easier for her, although she had that nagging feeling of remorse.

When Violet and Chad were together, they always had a bottle of alcohol that she would steal from the current owners of the house. Today, it was a small bottle of vodka with a label that looked Russian. It tasted like vinegar and smelled like lemon, burning her throat horribly but it gave Violet a buzz that she liked, so she continued drinking. After a while, she stopped tasting it, just felt the burn as it went down. Chad wasn't being like her, he would take small sips from a wine glass, grimacing and complaining that the owners need to be educated on getting good alcohol.

They were alcoholics that spent most of their time complaining and criticizing who had no problem with that.

"There he goes," muttered Patrick, taking a sip of vodka, looking at something outside the room. "Pathetic jackass that has his head in his ass like a hat."

"Who?" Although Violet had an idea who he was talking about. Smiling, she went for her wine glass and took a gulp, finishing it. She was in the floor flipping through magazines with Chad, seeing what was trending in the fashion world. A popular trend was anorexia and no shame.

"Patrick, who else thinks his ass is an accessory?"

"You?" Violet laughed. Chad faked laugh before hitting her with a pillow.

"Bitch my ass is perfect that you wished you had," he modeled for her. Violet gave him the birdy.

"Such a pathetic cocksucker. I mean he _is_ a literal one," he chuckled at his own joke.

Violet rolled her eyes at her friends sardonic comment, "Didn't you already know that. I mean you guys were on a brink of separation because of infidelity. But why are you saying that now? Is he doing something wrong?"

Chad glance at her with a sympathetic look, "Oh sweetie, how young and innocent you are," he paused looking thoughtful, as if he was remembering a dirty secret, "Well not that innocent. You lost your innocence to a psychopath."

Violet, feeling all of a sudden awkward, with cheeks on fire, glared at him. "I thought we were talking about Chad not about my lost of innocence to he who is not here."

She cringed mentally, realizing how stupid she sounded and reached for Chad's glass, motioning him to continue talking, hoping that would distract him from her terrible answer.

Lucky, Chad just gave her a knowing look, no lecture. "Touchy much darling? But all right, let's talk about my cocksucker of a husband sucking the penis of the shrink of this house."

Violet, choked on the vodka. Her throat was on fire. Stupid owners and their shitty alcohol. She whipped her head to look at Chad, who was casually checking his nails as if it what he told her was not a big deal. She stared at him with wide eyes, Bambi eyes Chad called them, "What the fuck did you just say?"

Chad looked surprised, that was suspiciously feigned. "Oh you didn't know? My bad. But now that I said it, why leave you hanging. That would be cruel of me. And you are my best friend," he reminded a Violet that looked like she was about to throw up or pass out, maybe both, but Patrick didn't seem to notice her. He was too enthralled in his horror story.

"You see my dear, your father has been having private sessions with my husband. He's been 'treating him'. Well, actually Chad has been treating him. If you know what I mean," he snorted.

"Wait - What?! Are you implying -? No! That can't be... No! That's bullshit!" she stuttered, not being able to process that her father was getting blowed by Patrick, a guy. What the hell? If it was Hayden, she wouldn't be that surprised, he had fucked her when they were alive, why not when they're dead? But by Patrick? What was wrong with her dad? That was just too much! She didn't know her dad was into guys.

Chad smiled wickedly, looking pleased with himself, and in that second it came to her that bastard had planned all of this. What the hell was wrong with the people in this house with the love of cause?

Getting comfortable in the bed, Chad gave her a half-smile, "No, it's not bullshit. It's the truth. I wasn't surprise when I found out. Patrick just loves sucking cocks. If he could he would suck his own, but he can't. I know because one day I walked into him trying. It was so pathetic, that I took mercy and did it for him that day -"

"Chad! Focus!" she snapped, not having the patience to deal with his disgusting side stories.

"Anyways, I'm getting off track. As I was saying, I was although little thrown off by Ben but then I thought about. Stuck in a house, for eternity with a resentful wife for having an affair with a 21-year-old student of his -"

"22," Violet corrected him, not being able to help herself.

Chad gave her a_ Are you fucking kidding me?_ look, before going on, "A 22 year old who is also stuck in this house, and having an eternal crying baby and a depressed teenage daughter, that's you by the way, its obvious he is going to be sexually frustrated, and doubt Vivien is going to help that boner. That is where cock sucking Patrick comes, who is always willing to help out if it includes cocks."

Violet was trying not to hyperventilate during his soliloquy. What is wrong with the people in this house. She was so angry at her dad. Why would her do this to her mom? Does her mom know about this?

"Does my mom? How did you find out? Did you walk in them? How are you not disturb about this? Why are you telling me this?" she couldn't stop talking.

"Well I don't know about Vivien, she probably does know. Her husband alone with a gay cock sucker for an hour everyday, I think she knows," Patrick said sarcastically, drinking the entire vodka in one gulp, "I'm not horrified because it's not my father that is getting blowed. But I didn't walk into them. It was your old lover that did."

"Tate?" Violet felt her body tense up again, always when he was mention.

Chad looked at her with pity, "Yes. I guess he had a session with your father, to try to fix his craziness but came too early and saw the entire thing blow," he smiled again. Another pun.

Violet was getting irritated at Chad jokes. He didn't look that bothered by finding out about Patrick's and her dad arrangement, blow and go. She wondered of Tate told him. Why hasn't her told her.

_Does it matter?_ said a voice. No it doesn't. Nothing matters with him. Exactly. _When it comes to him, nothing matters because you forget about everything. The good and the bad._

_That's not true_, she denied herself. She focuses on who he is, the caring boyfriend who is homicidal.

Chad had watched carefully, with narrowed eyes. "Sorry to interrupt, what looks like a very heartwarming conversation with yourself. That was not creepy at all. But why are you playing this game sweetie? We all know that you still love that little psycho. So why don't you get over your pride, and kiss and make up or fuck cause you need to get laid. You're too tense. You're dead, try to move on as much as you can."

"It's complicated," Violet wanted a cigarette right now. More than anything. She didn't want to talk about Tate. There was nothing to talk about except there was, according to Chad. She was cornered by Chad the Cougar, vicious when he found a prey. He was the most persistent person, especially when it came to Tate, he found him fascinating, even if he was his murderer.

"Carrie Bradshaw relationship with Mr. Big is complicated. Yours and Mini Bates, it's just the forgiving. Easy."

"No it's not. And who the hell is Carrie something and Mr. Big?" Violet exclaimed.

Chad opened his mouth to answer but Violet silenced him with her hand. "It was rhetorical. I honestly don't care."

"Fine, explain then. Tell me your Shakespearean tragedy. The ball is in your court. The stage is yours, " he pushed her towards the 'stage'. She stumbled to the empty space, glaring at him.

_This is stupid_, she thought but went along.

"How would feel if Patrick murdered 15 people, that were around your age? That have done nothing to you? That he raped your mom? Impregnated her and got her killed because of that? That he lied to you about who he was. Lied about everything. And that what he said about you could have been lies," Violet exploded in the end, slowly her anger was building until she went off. It has been a long time since she ranted about Tate, actually maybe the first time to someone.

Chad in the other hand, was calm and thinking over what she had thrown at him. He was nodding to himself, mouthing something.

"Okay. I'm ready to counterattack. Well, for starters, I would be shocked about having the sex with a woman because Patrick loves the D, not the V. Even if he claimed being straight in high school, it's highly unlikely. But if it did happened, well I would be happy because that means we get a baby. I mean, do you remember why we killed your dad? Then about murder, Patrick can't even kill a spider, don't let looks fool you. He is such a..." he continued insulting his husband but she didn't hear nothing.

Violet was focusing on what he just said. Chad killed her dad, he hanged him with the other ghosts. They planned, and succeeded, to kill her father and her brother. And he had terrorize her mother on Halloween, trashed their things and insulted her.

She still talks to Chad, after all he has done, but it was him who told her about Tate. Who he really was. That's one of the reasons she still talks to him. This is why she doesn't talk about her problems, every time an ugly revelation comes out, making Violet realize that Tate isn't the only monster in this house. They were all monster. Hypocrites.

"Ahhhh!" a piercing screech came from downstairs, interrupting both of them, Chad from his complaining and Violet from her epiphany.

"Holly shit, murder," Chad said tediously. He looked weary, as if that happened all the time, which is half - true. It hasn't happened lately, through. Their local murderer had retired.

They hear the scream again, it was coming from downstairs. Curiosity killing the cat, Violet got out the room, and looks down the stairs to see what happened.

"What do you thinks is happening?" she asked Chad.

He popped his head out, "Who knows? Who cares? It's probably someone getting killed."

"Don't you care?" Violet asked him. Something fascinating is finally happening (probably is a homicide but at least is something) and he doesn't care. He's always complaining how boring it is to be in this house. And someone is finally screaming bloody murder, literally. His reaction? Who cares.

"As long it's not someone who Patrick can do, I don't effin care. Stop being so noisy," he chastised her.

Violet gave him a disbelieving look. Patrick just shrugged and retreated back to the room. _Fucking prick,_ she thought,_ he's my friend but he really needs to stop caring only what happens to him. Or maybe I'm just nosy._

The scream appeared again and again, each time sounding more painful than the previous. _Oh god, it better not be a new victim,_ Violet thought miserably. She was sick of these ghosts and add a new one; this wasn't a fucking cemetery. Violet stood still listening, hoping to find out who it was.

"... fucking psychopath!" screeched the familiar voice of a women.

_Holy crap, its Hayden,_ Violet realized, surprised and pleased that it was one of the ghosts, especially it was that dumb skank. Hayden was screaming something to someone, her attacker.

Violet suddenly stop caring when she realized it was that bitch. Hayden probably irritated someone by continue offering to give them a hand job or something like that. _Good, she deserves it,_ Violet smiled wickedly. If there was anybody that hated Hayden more than anything it was Violet.

She started walking back to the room to tell Chad about the good news (he didn't like her either) when she heard Hayden scream again, this time "...You asshole! You fucking asshole! You're going to pay for this Tate!"

Violet froze midway. What the fuck? She wiped her head and ran to leaned against the banister to hear what was going. Did she hear correctly? Did Hayden just scream Tate's name? What the hell is happening?

Now Violet interest spiked. Seconds passed, no more screaming or any kind of noise was heard. Only the usual silence. Fuck. She ran back to the room.

Chad, hearing her, looked up from the magazine that she was previously flipping through. "What's up buttercup? What did you find out in your mission impossible?"

"Did you hear? It was Hayden. She screamed Tate's name. He did something to her."

Chad quirked his lips, "Really? It was that bitch? How amazing. God, I wonder how much pain she is in?"

"Are you not listening to me? Hayden said Tate's name? What the hell?"

Chad frowned, "I didn't hear that part or anything. Just heard screaming. Painful screams."

"Why would she say Tate's name? What did she do to him? Should we check?" Violet wondered.

Chad stared at her, Violet got defensive, "What?"

"It was Hayden howling in pain and you're more worried about Ted Bundy? Who was probably the one to cause her to scream like that? Do you hear yourself? The girl who claims to hate him."

"Well she obviously did something to make him do that? And we don't know he did anything. She just screamed you're going to pay for this Tate. I don't get what he was doing with her."

"Maybe its just in your mind. Unconsciously, you're imagining him everywhere, even him maybe killing Hayden because you miss him. I'm no expert in this, like your shrink case of a father, but isn't this a sign that you are ready to forgive Bates Junior? Your mind is pushing towards him?" Chad looked proud of himself, as if just found the cure for schizophrenia when he hadn't even helped her at all.

Violet disagreed, with almost all that he said because: a) she is not imagining him, b) Hayden did say Tate's name and c) she already forgave Tate a while ago. It's just a matter of time when she was going to let him know. She wanted to say all of that but instead, surprising herself said, "Whatever. I'm going to find out what happen." Violet disappeared to the basement, not hearing Chad's opinion.

It was dark, she couldn't see anything. But it was clear that no one was here. So whatever happened here finished. It smelled funny, something fresh. She didn't know what it was. It did make her walk carefully, not sure what to expect. In one step she slipped and fell on her butt.

"Fuck!" she cried out. Violet felt something sticky and wet in her palms, she ran her hands down the floor, that was soaking wet with something warm and sticky. She got up as quickly as she could, slipping a little in the process and disappeared to the bathroom. When she got in the light, she found out what that her hands was covered in: blood. She slipped in blood, there was lots of blood on the floor. All over the place. She went to the sink and washed of the blood that could be Hayden's, that Tate might have drawn.

What was she doing? Who cares what happened? It wasn't as if she is worried what happened to Hayden. She wasn't going to bother investigate but when she heard his name, she found herself being drawn. Like a moth to the flame. She wanted to be near him. A necessity that was overwhelming.

Before she didn't want to be near him and now she is looking for him. She ignored him. Made him stay away. It lasted for a long time. And then she stopped. Time passed, she wasn't sure how much, probably years or just maybe months, and she had stopped sending him away, not bothering to do it. Slowly, Violet let him come closer. She guess that she started letting him break the walls that she build around him. He was always around, he never bothered her, just was there, never in the same room but close enough.

Violet wants to blame the loneliness that caused her to do let him back in. But she can't, Violet has her parents, her baby brother, and Chad, one his victims. She was always doing something with them. Taking care of her brother, or talking with Chad or reading. It wasn't enough, nothing was ever enough for her. There was something missing, a hollow space inside of her, that was consuming her. Violet would pretend she didn't know what it was but she was lying to herself.

She wants him to stop loving her. To hate her, for ignoring him. Abandoning him when she promised she wouldn't do that. But he doesn't, no matter what she does to him. They're both the same. No matter what they do to each other, they will still be in love with each other. It's a cycle. And they have forever. It doesn't sound that bad. Others have it worse, like Chad and Patrick. Or Nora and Charles. But Tate and Violet are different, unique in their own way.

Tate would say they're kinda like Romeo and Juliet or Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love. Maybe even Bonnie and Clyde, if you want Violet. Badasses until their death. All those tragic lovers, just like them. But she didn't want to be like them. She just wanted them to be Tate and Violet, that would listen to music and play card games. No one else, she liked how they were before, when it was just about the two of them.

Becoming more determined than before, she finished quickly cleaning herself and got out of the bathroom. Hearing a ball rolling in the attic, she realized that he might be there with his brother. She looked up, breathing deeply_. It's finally happening,_ the moment she has prolongued._ You're going to make him pay and then your going be happy._

Or so that's what she hopped.

* * *

><p>When she finds him, his curled up in the corner of the attic, rocking back and forth. He has a troubled look, and notices that he has blood on him. Probably Hayden's. A little in his hair, on his hands and jeans. She smiles slightly at the sight. It was pathetic but it made her heart beat fast, made her feel as she was still alive, and not a dead ghost. She loved him for that. He doesn't show any signs that he knows she's there but he probably does. Violet steps forward and calls him:<p>

"Tate."

He doesn't look up. He keeps rocking, not looking at her. She sighs, a bit irritated at his state, and crouches down. He stops moving but he doesn't look at her.

Something was wrong with him. It bothered her, not knowing what had him like that. Not being able to do something. She blinked, when she realized what was going inside of her, that made her stomach churn. She loved him, and watching him like this caused her pain.

Violet took a deep breath, trying to remember why she came here. She's trying to remember but all she keeps thinking about is that people always forgive the one's that hurt them because they love them.

_Don't try denying it,_ whispered the voice inside her head, _you have also hurt him and he has forgiven you. You have forgiving other people you loved that hurt you. Your dad, your mom. What makes him different?_

She nodded to the voice. Both of them were the same. What made her think she was better than him, or anybody in this house. Everybody here were equally fucked up. Affairs, murder, rape, drugs, abortion, self-mutilation. They were all sick people who are stuck here in eternity with their flaws. They weren't going to change. The only thing they could do is accept and look pass them. Vivien did that, Chad did that, Moira did that. Why couldn't she do the same?

"Look at me," she ordered him.

Violet went down on her knees and cradled Tate's face. He looked at her, his black eyes staring at her with a mixture of sadness and fear. The same look he had before she made hell for both.

"What's wrong?" she whispered. Afraid he was gone, there was no going back to them. But she doubt it. He will come back to her, he always did.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part I<strong>

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><p><strong>If you got here till the bottom, I've got a few things to say:<strong>

**First of all, thank you so much for reading my first attempt of fanfiction. I've been wanting to do this for a long time, but haven't made a story that I liked enough to publish. I feel it was a bold move to choose AHS is my first fic cause it's so intense and dark (that's why I love it) but I tried. And I'm proud.**

**And I would appreciate if you guys let me know what you think. Did you like it, love it, hate it or didn't get it. I would appreciate any comments. Favoriting will do, if you don't comment. Or you can follow. I'm flexible.**

**If you liked this, as it's shown in the end and in the beginning, there's going to be a part 2, told from our adorable (but a little psychotic) Tate point of view. Some of your questions from this one will hopefully be answered. If not a can help you.**

**I'm currently working on Tate's. I got a lot done, the basic ideas, little choppy but I'm not sure when I'm going to post it. There's so much to fix. If you got some ideas of what I could add, message me and I'll consider it.**

**And lastly, sorry this was longer than I thought. I just had a lot to say. Sorry if I came to demanding. Thank you again. You guys are amazing!**


	2. Part II

_**Part II: If I Had A Heart**_

_"This will never end cause I want more. More, give me more. Give me more... crushed and filled with all I found underneath and inside. Just to come around. More, give me more, give me more."_

* * *

><p>He didn't know. It would never end because he couldn't, he wouldn't allow it. It was all he had left. In the end it would always be the same, he would never be like them. Feel like them. Regret, hatred, confusion, pain, anger. All those negative emotions that weak people tender to avoid. He wasn't like them.<p>

It wasn't really his fault, at least not completely. It was that never ending cycle that use to make him question his sanity when he first moved into this house. Back when he was alive and lived in semi harmony with Constance and Adelaide. Whether what he truly saw was real or it was just another episode of his psychotic mess. It was probably both. He was after all a psychopath, on coke, who lived in a haunted house, that had blackouts. Nothing to worry about.

He remembered when he first saw it. Just a small boy who knew that his mother was a fucking whore. It was the only time he actually liked Constance when she said they were going to be living there. He gave her the kindest look his ever given her; a nod with a blank expression. Walking around the halls of his new home gave him such a thrill, made him wonder what he had been missing his entire life. When he got to the basement and he had discovered all those jars full of body parts, he knew. That he was never going to leave this house.

Even when they did move out, he knew he would be back. And he was right. When his bitch of a mother manipulated Larry and got them to move back. The first thing he did was go back to the basement. It was the same, damp and cold but it felt different. There was something there that was calling him, for blood. That was the first time he had killed someone.

The mailman was going inside the house to deliver the mail, like always. He had gotten out of the house and was dazed, like in a dream. He wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. But he didn't care, all he could think of was blood. He remembered finding a bat in the basement and carried it with him. When he saw the mailman, something snapped inside of him. Before he knew it, Tate was bashing his head with the bat. Blood was spilling everywhere but he didn't care. He continued hitting and smashing the mailman head, making it become a red mush. He didn't stop until the bat craked, breaking him from his trance. Tate had expected himself to be horrified or revolted at the sight in front of him, but he didn't. He just felt annoyance for having to clean up this mess.

After that, Tate always wanted more, because of that crazy, dangerous, darkness was part of him. The longer he was in the house, the more it swallowed him. Made him crave blood, destruction, temptation. But he was fine with all those sins, to let them control him. Tate had adapted to the darkness, allowing him to become it. Just like she said. Just like everybody else that came across him. They would say it as an insult but Tate saw it as a victory. Not anybody can become fear itself.

* * *

><p>He did tried to change one time. Because finally he had a good reason.<p>

Her.

She was just like him but better. She was he could have been if he wasn't so mentally unstable or didn't have two shitty parents. There was something about her he loved. She wasn't like the other residents that had lived in the house. She wasn't fake like everybody else in L.A. She was honest and didn't give a fuck what other thoughts. She was perfect for him. He thought she could help him change. And she did, for a while. It was nice, a different change. At first it was the most scariest thing that had happened to him. To be like everybody. He liked it but he was too damaged to be like them. It was nice for as long it lasted.

Violet Harmon was his light.

She was his light that was slowly fading because the darkness was growing around her, swallowing her.

Even at the brightest time, darkness will overshadow it. That happened to him, his light was overshadowed with his own darkness. Violet had discovered all the shit he had done because those stupid fags that were still pissed for what he did to them. Couldn't they understand that he didn't have an option. He had to get a baby for Nora and he was also helping them. But they ddint see that. Instead of letting go they told Violet about of the shit he did, although some of it she already know but they reminded her what a monster her boyfriend was. A person who shot 15 students back in '94 to killing them to raping Vivien and impregnating her. It all came crashing down to him, putting him in a horrible position.

Suffering and alone in the darkness. Just like before.

* * *

><p>Excitement would pulsed through him. That was the first emotion that he would feel when he was about to do it. Then adrenaline would kick in. This were the only time when he felt free in this prison. He would get lost, forget about everything.<p>

_It's wrong,_ the others would say, _you are a psycho. _

_No shit,_ he snorted, what did they think he was? A tamed lamb.

Of course, he was a psychopath. That's what his psychiatrist diagnosed him. Well, actually he just called him a monster. And he just assumed that was the nickname they have to people like him. Who do terrible things without remorse. Didn't experience empathy. He did feel those things (at an extent), he just didn't show them. They didn't understand him.

It would come to surprise to a lot, that most of the things he did were to help people. He impregnated Vivien to give Nora the baby she always longed for. He killed the gays, so that they can be together forever. He attacked Ben because he wanted to protect Violet from the ugly truth. He burned Larry because he had killed his brother. All those things were too make everything better. He did it for them. Why wouldn't they see that? He was always doing things for people, especially for Violet. Even if she send him away, Tate always watched over her. Took care of her. He never showed himself to her but sometimes she made it to hard.

The first time Tate showed himself to her, was when she was mutilating herself. He remembers the anger he felt watching her do that. She promised she was going to stop hurting herself, why would she cause herself pain. There was already enough people doing that, himself included.

He was going to keep to himself, just like he always did when he would watch her but he couldn't that time, it was too much. Watching the blood seep out of her leaving those ugly lines that he knew where going to heal but still bothered him to see them there. He had enough causing her to hurt, and watching her adding to his, was what broke him. Tate went towards her and took the razor from her hand. She whipped her head to see who had done that. He would never forget how she looked when she saw that it was him. He felt partially pleased that her initial reaction wasn't repulsion or anger. It was just shock and confusion.

"Don't do that," he hissed, she stared at him, shocked that he would stop her. That he would come to her when she told him to go away. "Don't hurt yourself," his voice cracked a bit, and before she could send him away he disappeared to the basement.

His breathing was heavy, of the adrenaline left. He could feel his ear ringing, and out of confusion he started hitting himself. That was a very stupid thing to do, but he didn't regret it. She didn't look repulsed at the sight of him, just in shock.

_Maybe because you didn't give her enough time dumbass,_ that voice sneered in his head.

_No, that's not the reason,_ he told the voice.

She was breaking, slowly, he could see. She didn't tell him go away anymore and it thrill him. But that didn't mean anything, he knew that, she hasn't forgive him, he's sure about that but at least she is accepting the fact. They would sit in silence, at times, while she would stare at the window with a bored look. And he would subtly stare at her, in the corner of his eyes, fascinating with her.

He wonder what made her allow him near her. Was it that she had lost the energy to hate him and tell at him? Or was it him? Had she noticed that he had stopped killing people? That he didn't cause problems in the house and kept to himself. She should notice because he didn't do those things anymore.

And to his surprise it wasn't for her but because of him. He wasn't the same anymore. He wouldn't get the same feeling as before. He was excited because he expected those familiar feelings come to him when he finished drawing their blood, watching them take their last breaths, trying and ultimately failing to save themselves. It used to be euphoric, so beautiful, but now when he is done, in their blood, he curls up and cries. Loud, painful cries that causes goosebumps. It broke him to know that he had lost his darkness. That he could no longer be the monster he was. It was the only thing he had left and he was slowly losing it.

Banging himself against the wall, making his head explode of pain. He doesn't know why this is happening to him, what has changed. All he feels is getting trapped more, getting suffocated by this negative energy that he use to crave, love. Now all he wants is to get rid of it. To cleanse himself from its twisted ways. But he is in too deep. He is lost in the maze of his insanity.

He was a sick fucker. All those fantasies that he would have about blood, guts, vomit, piss, dead bodies. But despite all that crap, he cared about people, liked to please them. Especially women, he would do anything for them. He had mommy issues, so what. Is there a problem with that? His mother was an alcoholic cocksucker, who killed his father and brother. Anybody would that kind of shit of excuse mother would have fallen off the wagon.

_But that was no excuse,_ his therapist would lecture him.

_The first step to redemption is to admit that you have a problem._

_You have to take responsibility for your own actions._

_In order to heal, you have to forgive._

_It takes time. Patience is the key to your happiness._

He would nod and agree, saying that he is correct. Than that day he would kill their stupid animal, because for some creepy coincidence all his therapist had animals up until he got his hands on them. He would make sure they knew it was him, to know that he thought they were fucking stupid with their methods.

One time he found a mask in the attic, of a monster. It was grotesque to look at. It wasn't human. He loved it, putting it on. It showed the monster he was from the inside. People like him, he would wonder, in the darkness, in his safe space. He's never met anyone like him. And Tate was glad. He liked feeling one of kind. A rapist who murdered more than a dozen people, a psychopath, trying to save a suicidal teenager.

How many people was there who had done all of that? Only him. It shouldn't be something to be proud of, he knew. But...

If only he felt remorse to all the terrible things he did. He wasn't born a monster, this house made him a monster. Its always the house. When he was alive he had anger problem and didn't like people. It didn't help his case when he started snorting cocaine. And then bought guns from this guy from the music store.

* * *

><p>Someone was in the basement. Why were they here? No one went to the basement because they all knew that it was his. And Dr. Montgomery. But he didn't count because he was the original owner so he had the right to be wherever he wanted. Other than that no one came to the basement unless they wanted to be brutally murdered by Tate.<p>

"What are you doing?" he heard the nasal voice of Hayden say from around the corners of the basement.

_What the fuck does she want know? _he screamed in his head, but out loud just grunted in displeasure.

"Tate."

"Leave me alone," he grumbled. He moved to face the concrete wall, in hopes that Hayden would get the obvious hint that he wanted her gone.

"Are you really going to pass the chance to be with someone in the house that doesn't hate you," she smirked.

"Fucking leave," he hissed, turning his face slightly. He hated her face, that always had that stupid smug looked.

She tilted her head. "Why?"

"I don't want you here!" Tate spat, clenching his fist, feeling that white hot rage course through him.

_Don't think about it Tate, _he warned himself. _That self centered bitch isn't worth it._

_But it would be satisfying to shut her up, _a voice sang tauntingly inside his twisted head, trying to claw out_._

_No, _he shouted, clutching his head._ I don't want you! Go away! _

_But Tate, if you make me go away, this time you're definitely going to be alone, _it snarled. He squeezed his eyes, slamming his head against the wall, trying to drown out the voice.

"Come on Tate don't be like that," Hyden said playfully. He turned around, having forgotten that she was still here.

"Don't you understand. I don't fucking want you here. Get the fuck out!"

Hyden just gave him a frustrated look. "Why are you always like this? I'm not doing anything to you. I just want to talk to someone," her voice wavered a bit in the end, showing how truly alone she was. If Tate felt any sympathy towards her, he would have noticed. But he was Tate Langdon. He didn't care about those things.

"Wow. You're especial kind of stupid, aren't you?" Tate said through his teeth, faking a smile, when all he wanted is to strangle her with her own intestines.

She laughed and he glared. This is what has been happening almost every day. She would come to where he was hiding, and babble on until he would lose his patience and go to some other part of the house, before he did something that would ruin his good streak.

He doesn't understand why Hayden lately had been trying to spend time with him. Hyden irritated him, insulted him, and she found him whip and fucking crazy; there was no reason why they should spend time together. He hated her because she was Violet's father mistress. She is was part of the people that caused Violet pain. Not to mention she was a huge annoying bitch. All she did was whine and complain about everything that went wrong her life.

"What do you want from me? To strangle you? Because that's what I'm getting from you right know," he snapped at her.

She smirked. "Calm down Bates Jr. I just want to talk to you."

"Why? Cause you can't fuck Hugo because he's too busy building his second Frankenstein? Or Travis, that fucking dumbass, prefers to play with the burnt children? Or is Ben's dick is too busy for you because it's being occupied by that Chad fag?" he taunted her, a cruel smile across his face.

And to his delight, Tate got the response he was looking for. Hayden's face twisted into a ugly purple, she looked like she was about to explode. Suddenly Hayden's presence was welcomed and enjoyed.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself making his smile grow. "Well, you're not occupied," she said through clench teeth. "How about we have sex? Huh?" She took a step towards him, her hands sliding to his legs, going higher and higher to his crotch.

He slapped them away. "Can't," Tate said immediately.

"Why? Can't get it up?" she said snidely.

"I would never do that to Violet," he muttered. "Besides I have standards. I don't fuck desperate sluts." He gave her a mirthful smile, making her glare at him.

"She doesn't even talk to you," she sneered. "God, you're so fucking whip."

"Better to be whip than fucking whore," he snapped, pushing her back. He looked at the floor. "And she does talk to me. Kind of."

Hyden gave him a disbelieving look. "I'm sorry but I thought that she was ignoring you."

"She isn't ignoring me," Tate responded back. Well, technically she was but he wasn't to help her point.

"So she's forgiven you?"

"No. But she will forgive me," Tate said, suddenly forgetting that he didn't want to talk to her. "Not right now, obviously, but it's gonna happen. She doesn't send me away anymore. We don't talk by we have each other company. And that's enough. You wanna know why?"

"Enlighten me Romeo," Hayden replied sarcastically, she leaned against a wall, crossing her arms.

Tate ignored her tone and continued. "Because we're going to start talking to each other again. Like old times, about music, trees, how much we hate people." He gave her a pointed look which she responded by blowing him a kiss. "It won't be perfect, she might still hold resent me over me, probably will but I don't care because she will be there and that's all that matters. Us be together again."

Hayden stared at him. "Oh my god! You are such a fucking pussy! No wonder she doesn't want you near hear. You're pathetic," she wore a look of repulsion.

Tate wasn't bothered by her insults, her disgust over him. Hayden was a stone hearted bitch, bitter with how her life ended up. She wasn't a romantic, like him. She had nothing to keep her sane in this house. At times he felt bad for her, she was just in love with a guy that would never feel the same, always have her bellow. But those were rare times, most of the time she was fucking any of the male ghosts from this house and stabbing them when she was done with them. Hayden would throw stuff around when ever she was pissed that Ben would ignore or see him with his wife and son.

He looked at her to see Hayden still insulting him. Calling Tate _pitiful, pathetic, asshole, pussy, psychopath. _he rolled his eyes, not being able to believe that she can not shut her goddamned mouth for a moment.

"... your'e such a fucking shit..." her voice went on, still going on.

Tate clenched his jaw, getting tired of hearing her voice, of her presence. He wanted her to stop.

"Shut up," he whispered dangerously, his nonexistent patience wearing off. Hayden ignored him, or couldn't hear him because of her stupid, nasal voice.

His demon was snapping, growling, ready to cause pain.

"No," Tate said, clenching his fists, making his nails pierce his skin.

_Yes! _it hissed. _Do it! _

"Stop!" he ordered, to Hyden and to that voice, that was making him see black spots. Making him slip into the darkness.

_Do it! Do it! _He unclenched his fists, feeling his blood drip from his hands. But he didn't care. It had taken over Tate. He stalked towards her and shoved to the floor. Straddling her, he grabbed the nearest, sharpest thing he could get hold of, a metal file and then plunged it to Hyden's throat.

Hayden scream echoed in the basement. It gave him chills, making him sigh in pleasure. He got up from her.

"You asshole! You fucking psychopath!" she screeched, gagging on blood. She stood up, staggered around, pulling the file out and throwing it at him, missing. She kept screaming at him, yelling over and over how much of an asshole he was.

Tate smiled fondly, as he watched blood dripped from Hayden. She was getting drenched from all the blood. It was amusing, such a beautiful sight from an ugly thing. It made him want to do it again.

His smiled disappeared when he realized what he was thinking. The reason why Violet wouldn't talk to him. He enjoyed causing pain to people.

_But that bitch had it coming, she deserved it. She called you a pussy, pathetic. She has no right,_ his demon whispered to him, proud of what he did. _Do it again, stab her. Make her scream. Make her beg for mercy._

Tate felt himself agreeing with it. He was absolutely right. Hayden should beg for mercy. He grabbed the same file, slippery from the blood and walk towards her, who still wasn't dead. Stupid bitch.

He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her against the wall, blood splattering on him.

"Let me go! You asshole! You fucking asshole! You're going to pay for this Tate!" she tried punching him, but he grabbed both of her hands shoving them to the wall and holding them with one hand.

"This is what you want? Me to pay attention to you? You really should have left when I told you," he whispered to her before impaling the file in her right eye, making her scream in agony. "Does that hurt? Of course it does, you're screeching you pathetic whore."

He stabbed her in the face many times, even after she went limp. He couldn't stop, he wasn't in charge anymore. His demon always took over when he killed, made them suffer. He was a monster. He let go of Hayden lifeless body, kicking it to the side. He grabbed a rag, and tried to take off the blood from his face. It was no use, the rag did nothing. His tears through, we're helping more to wash the blood of. He gripped his hair tightly, trying to focus in his breathing instead of blood that was pooling around him. When he felt himself start calming down from that adrenaline, he let go of his hair.

They don't forgive, they don't forget. He's never going to change. He deserve what he is getting. All the pain that he has caused, there's nothing he can change about it. He has forever, he can wait. In the end the darkness will win. He is fine with the darkness controlling him as long as she doesn't become like him, a monster. He wants to protect her, even if he has failed her many times. But he will try to change.

He looked around the mess, the blood pooling around Hyden's momentarily dead body, the broken glassed that he must have broken during their altercation. One last glance before he disappeared from the basement, wanting to forget of what he did.

* * *

><p>She was there, in the room with him. He could hear her hesitant steps toward him. But he didn't glance at her. He just continued with his rocking, letting his set movements calm him down. He could feel himself slowly relaxing, loosing all of that hatred and bloodlust.<p>

Violet crouched down in front of him, casting a shadow over him and tilted his head with her finger, forcing him to look at her. He stopped moving, seeing her face clearly. Its been such a long time since her face had been inches away from him. She hasn't changed a bit.

"Tate," she whispered again, her eyes were glassy, she looked like she was about to cry. "Look at me."

He stared at her, emotions whirling inside him. Why was she here? Crap! Did she find out what he did to Hayden? Was she here to yell at him? He didn't want that right now. He should go but he wanted to stay with Violet.

"What's wrong?"

He stared at her, wanting to tell her that he was alone and that he missed her. He was sorry for what he did and there was nothing he could do to take it back. He was trying to change but couldn't because he was to tainted with all the blood he has spilled and is permanently on him.

"I stabbed Hayden in the throat. Multiple times, first out of anger and the other times out of pure pleasure," Tate felt himself panicking as he told her the truth, afraid that she was going to send him away again.

Violet, face was unresponsive, then she pulled away. Tate's panic went haywire. Oh no, she's going to go away. He felt like crying, when she started laughing. Violet was laughing loud, her eyes shining of amusement.

"Holly crap! Really? That's amazing! I mean, I knew something bad had happened but I never thought it was that! That's fucking awesome! It really is Tate! I hate that bitch so much," she was laughing still, smiling at him.

He was confuse. Why wasn't she angry at him? He did something horrible, he acted like a monster and instead of yelling at him, she's practically congratulating him. Maybe she's become the darkness, just like him.

She noticed that he hadn't said anything and stopped laughing, she tilted her head to the side, confused. "What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tate, finally stood up, frowned. "Why are you not angry at me?"

She looked bemused. "Because I have nothing to be angry at you?" she said slowly.

"Yes you do," he whispered.

Her face became stoic, remembering everything that he did. He flinched, knowing that she was going to leave him again. He took a deep breath preparing for her to go. Instead she walked toward him and extended her towards him. Hesitantly he took her hand, their fingers interlocking.

"Do you want to play checkers?" she asked casually.

Tate tried to suppress his smile, just nodding.

"Let's go to my room," and in a second they were there. He hasn't been in the room for such a long time. It looked the same except it was missing many pieces of furniture, the bed included. It only had a rocking chair and a desk that had stack of CD's. Tate walked over to the CD's and smiled when he found Morrissey. She still had it. He remembered when he gave it to her a few years ago on her birthday. Tate had left it in the bathroom she would usually take showers. It was the only place that he could think of leaving it where she would find it and none of the other ghosts would get it. He didn't really know what she did to it, never had heard of her but now seeing it, it pleased him that she had it. It showed that a part of her still cared of her.

Meanwhile, Violet had walked over to the closet and pulled out the checkerboard and its pieces. Placing it down in the floor, she sat down Indian style, like she had done it before many times.

Tate stayed where he was, not sure what to do. He felt like he was on thin ice. One wrong mood and he would drown in the coldness. He hadn't realize that as much as he waited for this moment to come, he hadn't considered what to do when it came. His entire thoughts were consumed to just get her to at least acknowledge him that nothing else matter. And now here he was, where he wanted to be, not sure what to do. Obviously they weren't to go back to what they were once. But they can try and at least see what could happen.

Noticing him by the desk, Violet motioned him to sit down next to her. "Get over here. We cnat play if you stay there."

Nodding, he walked towards her cautiously. Tate sat down next to her, not too close to scare but not far away to show his fear.

"FWY, I'm color red," she informed him, getting all the red checkers and placing them to her side.

He wanted to protest, say that he always got red and she got black. But he kept quiet, simply smiling. Instead he picks up the black piece and examined it. How ironic. He was black and she was red. It fit them.

"Alright. I guess I get black," he put them in his side, looking up to see her watching him with a slight smile. He smiled to himself, looking down to his pieces.

Black for his darkness, for how tainted he was, for what he did.

And red for her anger. Towards him, her parents, Hyden. Her strong personality that didn't deal with bullshit.

Together, black and red, they would try to understand each other.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part II<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>First of all, I'm so sorry for the long update. I am absolutely horrible. I never meant for that to happen, it just did. Hope you like it and don't think its shitty.<strong>

**I had so many things happened to delay this story: school, projects, ACT/SAT testing, vacations, getting sick, starting a new stories, and losing a little inspiration in this one.**

**But I finished it! So hope you liked it! And if you like the shows of Teen Wolf, or the 100, check out my stories!**

**Also there are a few things I want to point out. Like Tate's opinion for Chad and Patrick is envisage he is homophobic (as it was seen in the show) and his hatred towards Hyden is because she has done a lot of shit to Violet. So that means I don't feel like that. I have nothing against Chad or Patrick(I kinda do, he was an ass to Chad)or Hyden. I like all these characters, I was just presenting them in Tate's point of view.**


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